


Sooner Or Later

by SwiftSnowmane



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Beth PoV, Bethyl Week, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fire & Sky-verse, Introspection, One-Shot, POV Female Character, Prison-Era, pre-Bethyl, set between s3 and s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftSnowmane/pseuds/SwiftSnowmane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the prison is safe, but Beth finds herself longing for...something. Daryl notices, and makes her a promise.</p><p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1591847/chapters/3384230">BtFatS</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sooner Or Later

**Author's Note:**

> A prison-era fic, set the evening before Daryl finds Zach out on the road.

_Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run_  
_There's still time to change the road you're on._  
-'Stairway to Heaven'

~

Beth stood at the edge of the inner line of fences, her fingers clinging to the chain links like twisting vines. She was alone…for now.

Fence duty was over for the day—that much was apparent from the great pile of burning walkers halfway across the field. Most people didn’t linger after their shift was done.

But Beth wasn’t looking toward that grim pyre; she had fixed her gaze upon the forest beyond. The spring-green leaves of the row of trees had turned to gold under the evening sky, and each tree cast long shadows upon the next, an infinite array of dark against light. Beth’s own shadow stretched long and thin, beyond the outer fence of linked chains and across the field, not quite reaching the edge of the woods. She knew it was only a matter of time before more walkers came out of those trees and stumbled up to their fences, their rotten faces and hungry mouths hissing a clamor of _let us in._ But until then, until decaying hands and fingers grasped at the cold, linked wire, she would remain.

Today’s shift had consisted mostly of newcomers, the few able-bodied from amongst the former Woodbury residents, as well as some of the folk Daryl and the run crews had found wandering on the road, now looking to pull their weight. Beth had passed them as they had come in through the doors, tired, but eyes bright, looking forward to the meal of fresh venison that Daryl had hunted, and that Carol was surely cooking up nice and hot for them inside the cafeteria. A few of them had smiled at her tentatively as she’d passed.

Most of the newer folk seemed to avoid looking her directly in the eye or speaking to her for too long, she’d noticed, whether out of deference to her status as Judith’s caretaker or out of respect for her father’s standing on the council, she was never really sure. It made her feel odd, almost…removed. Beth knew she ought to turn back, go inside and join them there, attempt to make small talk, to get to know some of them better, or at the very least find Maggie and their father and check in, before heading down to the showers and then to her room, to collapse in a heap on her creaky bunk-bed, where she could lie in peace, write in her journal, and fall fast and soundly asleep.

But the yard was quiet this evening, and Beth was in no hurry to rush back inside. For some reason the walls of the prison—usually a source of security if not quite comfort—had seemed oddly oppressive today. She knew she couldn’t go back in there, not yet, not while the sun still shone. If she had stayed inside one more moment, in those dark, narrow hallways, the bars on the windows closing in around her, she feared she might have lost hold of herself, might have snapped at some poor child’s innocent remark, or a newcomer’s hundredth question.

And so, as she'd emerged from within the walls of the cell block, squinting in the early evening light, she'd taken the stairs two steps at a time and sprinted down into the yard. She had walked briskly past the gardens and the rainwater barrels, beyond the rows of little wooden crosses, until she was nearly at the inner fences. The evening air had engulfed her, the gentle breeze tickling her skin through her light sweater. Breathing deeply, she had felt her head begin to clear.

She didn’t know why she felt like this today, it wasn’t as though she’d worked any harder or longer than usual. If anything, today had been relatively easy, if one could call any day in this life of theirs _easy._ Rick and Carl had even taken Judy for the rest of the evening, seeing as they had finished their planting work in the yard early today. And yet even as she stood there now in the lowering sun, alone at the long fence line, Beth couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that somewhere, _someone_ must require her presence. _“We all got jobs to do.”_ Her daddy’s voice was as clear as though he were standing there beside her, one-legged, testing out his new prosthetic, though Beth knew full well he was back in the office, sorting through a list of supplies he needed from the upcoming run.

Still holding onto the linked wires of the fence, Beth looked away from the line of trees for a moment and glanced around the yard. The prison towers stood at the far corners of the fence line, monolithic sentinels rising above all. Below, everything was quiet, save for the grunting of the pregnant sow in her wallow, the clucking of the chickens now tucked away in their coop, and the soft whickering of the two horses in their paddock. She could just see their backs over the top of the fence rail, where they stood head to toe, swishing flies from each other’s faces with their tails, red against gold. She knew there would only be one soon, for Michonne was taking Flame out again. Beth thought about walking over to see the chestnut mare, to stroke her gleaming neck, to feel the softness of her nose and let her whiskers tickle her hands. She thought about it, but she didn’t. It felt too much like _good-bye._

Instead, she remained where she stood, her cowboy boots rooted to the ground, the evening sun still beating warm and strong against the back of her neck, and she turned her gaze back toward the darkening woods. No walkers appeared suddenly from the trees, only the odd little bird darted between branches. Beth didn’t know what she was looking for exactly, only that it felt strangely soothing to look out there, to look beyond.

It was then that she felt a tingling at her back, a prickling on her skin, as though she were being watched. A shadow passed over her then, as though something had, momentarily, blocked the sun.

“Hey,” said a gruff voice a few paces away.

She whirled around, still clinging to the chain-links, her fingers curled tightly over the wire. “Oh,” she breathed. “It’s you.”

Daryl Dixon always could walk silently upon soft ground when he wished. In these last months here in the prison, with its hallways and cold, hard floors that echoed no matter whose boots tread upon them, she’d nearly forgotten.

He had come close to the fence line, and now stooped for a moment to set down his crossbow. He looked at her beneath an unruly lock of brown hair, amused. “Expectin’ someone else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it’s just—Maggie send you?” She knew she had probably failed to conceal the sarcasm in her tone.

He scrutinized her for a moment before answering. “Actually, no. Carol said this section of the fence needed seein’ to. I was on watch," and he pointed up at the tower, "saw you standin’ here, thought maybe you beat me to it.”

“Oh, I—” she stammered. “I was just—sometimes I like to—” She felt ridiculous, trying to explain herself.

But there was a smile of sorts tugging at the corner of Daryl’s mouth, and Beth realized the man was just messing with her.

“You ain’t gotta apologize for takin’ a break. We all need one sometimes.” He paused then, digging into the pockets of his faded brown jeans for his lighter. As he flipped it open, she watched as the tiny flame flickered against the end of his cigarette. Taking it between his lips, he took a long drag, as if for emphasis. “And somethin’ tells me you deserve one more ‘n most. Takin’ care of Lil’ Asskicker all the time like that. Like she was your own.”

His words hung between them for a moment, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. “Judy’s no trouble at all, you know that. She makes me smile…she makes everyone smile. Even you," she added with a grin.

“Mmph”, Daryl grunted. “All the same, no shame in takin’ a break now and then. A rest. Make sure you ain’t wearin’ yourself down. Hell, even Rick…well, seems to be doin’ him good.”

She thought of their former leader now that he had stepped back upon the formation of the council. He seemed, if not _healed,_ then surely more at peace than she’d seen him since, well…since Lil’ Asskicker was born. “Yeah, yeah it does,” she agreed.

Daryl took another drag on his cigarette and looked out toward the field beyond the fences. “Goin’ on a run tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said. “My dad’s makin’ a list.”

Daryl nodded. “What about you? You need anythin’?”

 _If only I knew,_ she thought. Beth had never quite figured out how to answer that question, no matter how many times someone asked her. She knew the sorts of things she _ought_ to ask him for. Practical things. Toiletries, clothing, toys for Judith (though she never had to ask for those, they appeared regardless). _Maybe if I went on a run myself once in a while I’d know it when I saw it._

But runs were for people like Maggie and Glenn, for Michonne and Sasha. For people like Daryl Dixon.

Beth could see how some of the newer people in the prison seemed to look up to him, especially the younger folk. It made sense of course, given that more often than not it was he who had found them out there. He who picked them up off the road, brought them here, gave them safety and a roof over their heads. Maybe they saw him as some kind of hero, she mused, their very own personal Robin Hood. Only there weren't any rich now, only the poor, the hungry…the _needy_.

An image of Daryl riding up on his Charger, scooping up folk left and right, came to her then, and she nearly laughed aloud. _I'd like to see that._ Standing there, smoking that cigarette in his leather vest, his hair grown long and wild since she’d first met him, Beth could see how to certain of the wide-eyed newcomers he might exude the appearance of a dashing outlaw. At first, she had wondered if Daryl would rather have diverted the worshipful attention, would rather have stood, as he had in previous times, on the sidelines, but lately she had noticed a little quirk in the corner of his lips, had detected a slight strut in his stride. _Like he's mighty pleased with himself._ Perhaps, she thought with some amusement, Daryl Dixon had embraced this life—and his new-found role in it—more fully than any of them.

Beth stole another glance at the man beside her. He was still hanging back a few paces away, blowing the cigarette smoke as far away from her in the opposite direction as possible. But the breeze was fickle tonight, and his smoke drifted over to her even so. Beth wondered, fleetingly, if maybe _outlaw_ wasn’t so far off the mark. Daryl never spoke of his life before. Maybe the man was more familiar with the inside of these fences than any of them. No, she thought, that was unfair. Daryl was no criminal. And so what if he had once, long-ago, lived outside the law? They all did, now. Whatever Daryl may have been before, it didn’t matter. _All that matters is what we are now,_ she told herself. _But what is that, exactly?_

The answer came to her as she recalled long nights beneath crisp winter skies glittering with stars, of evenings spent staring into dying fires, and a leather-clad man emerging from the trees, bringing back cottontails to feed their ragged band. Of a voice in the dark, rough but reassuring, telling her _"could be a 'coon, or a possum."_ She remembered, and knew in her heart that this man and his skills—hunting and fighting both—had kept their small group alive during that long winter on the run. Beth thought of lil' Judy then, how she would never have survived another day if Daryl and Maggie hadn’t risked their lives to find that formula. How Daryl had, in the end, chosen the prison, and the people in it, even over his own brother. How he kept them all fed, clothed even, going on all those hunting trips and runs. Faced down death—and worse—every day. She thought of the gentle expression that he reserved for Lil’Asskicker. No, what Daryl was now, she thought, was indispensable. Essential to what they all were, now. And what that was, she knew, was _family._

He was looking right at her now, waiting expectantly for an answer. Suddenly, the thought poured out of her, words she couldn’t stop. “What if I came with you?"

"What?" he sounded taken aback, confused.

"On the run, I mean.”

Something akin to fear passed over Daryl’s face then, and he looked stricken. “Beth, you know I can’t—"

“I know, I know,” she said, feeling the blood rush to her face. “Never mind, I know it’s stupid—”

But Daryl was still looking right at her, and Beth saw the apology there in his eyes. “Hey, it ain’t that. I know you can kill walkers. And you can hold your own with a gun. But out there, it’s always the same. Sooner or later, we run.” He held her with his eyes, and moved toward her, slightly. “Tell me, Beth," he said, and for a moment he sounded deadly serious, almost menacing. "Can you run?"

 _Yes_ , she wanted to say. _Yes, I can._ But the words caught in her throat, and she swallowed them down, and remained silent.

“Anyway," Daryl pressed on, "Maggie’s goin’, and you know, your dad’ll be worried sick as it is. And if somethin’ happened out there, on my watch…how’d I ever explain that to him, huh? How’d I live with that?” He ran a hand through his hair, as though the very thought distressed him greatly. “Sides, who'd help Rick with Lil’ Asskicker? Sure there’s plenty who’d want to, but there ain’t _no one_ I— _we_ 'd trust half as much as you.”

Beth didn’t know to respond to such forthright praise. She knew Daryl wasn’t being patronizing, his tone was genuine. He seemed upset, somehow, that he had to tell her _no._

“I’ll bring somethin’ back for you,” he said, then. “And that's a promise." Pausing for a moment, he asked her again, "Sure you don't need anythin'?"

She looked up at him. _You_ , she thought with a sudden vehemence. _We need you._ “Just come back in one piece, okay?”

Something flickered in Daryl's eyes then, and Beth felt his gaze on her, lingering perhaps a moment too long.

“We should go inside,” he said in a low voice.

Beth’s heart sank, and she shook her head and looked away. _Not yet_ , she thought, willing him to somehow hear the strange longing in her heart. For just a moment she pretended that she hadn’t heard, and she stared obstinately through the fence links, across the field.

“Hey,” Daryl spoke again, his voice gone gentle. “You alright?”

Beth didn’t answer and she didn’t look at him either. She couldn’t let him see the sudden tears that had welled in her eyes. _We don’t get to be upset_. Her ponytail had fallen forward over her shoulder, covering the side of her face, a blessed veil from his suddenly searching gaze. She could sense him watching her, could feel the confusion and concern there. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. _How can I explain how I feel when I don’t even know myself?_

“You do know,” Daryl broke into her thoughts, “now that I’ve found you, I ain’t goin’ back in there without you.” It wasn’t a question. “Maggie would skin me alive if I left you out here alone in the dark. Anyway, it ain’t safe. Look.” He moved close to her then; his boots appeared suddenly next to her own. Eyes still turned to the ground, Beth saw him grind the butt of his cigarette into the dirt at their feet. Then, he reached across her where she stood nearly pressed up against the fence. He was so close she could almost taste the tobacco on his breath. “See? This bit’s come loose.”

Beth looked closer, and could indeed see where some of the wire links, rusty and worn, had detached from the others, right near the post. Daryl reached into the pocket of his dirty-brown jeans and brought out a handful of cable ties. “Here,” he said, and with calloused fingers he pressed a thin plastic strip into her hand. She was so surprised she nearly dropped it. _He wants me to help him._ “Like this,” he explained, looping the tie through each side of the detached links, and pulling it tight. “See? Now your turn, Greene.”

Beth did as he had shown, linking each broken link to the one opposite with the ties. Together, they made swift work of the repairs. Even so, as she looked at the small ties holding the entire section of fence together, she knew that, sooner or later, even the thin, strong plastic would give way. Sooner or later, they’d have to fix it again.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Daryl spoke then: “Ain’t but a temporary mend, but it’ll do for tonight. Should hold ‘til I get back, weld it back into place.”

"Where'd you find these, anyway?” Beth gestured to the cable ties, now twisted into the chainlink.

“Hardware store. Ten miles out, give or a take. Couple weeks back." Daryl titled his head at her. "Why?”

“Just wonderin'," she shrugged, intending once more to keep her thoughts to herself, but finding they came spilling out of her all the same. "What’s it like out there these days?”

Daryl looked at her strangely. “You really ain’t been out there since winter, huh?”

She glanced down at the ground, her boots, the patch of weeds growing along the fenceline.

“ _Beth._ ” Her name escaping in that rough rasp of his startled her, and she raised her head toward him. “Believe me, anythin’ worth seein' these days—" he cleared his throat—"sure as hell ain’t out _there_.”

His eyes sought hers, and like some small, furred creature ensnared within his gaze, she stared back. They held each other thus for a long moment. Unspeaking. Still. Silent.

Although they were finished now, Beth didn’t move, but remained where she stood along the fenceline, Daryl a quiet, patient presence beside her. While he didn’t suggest to her again that they go back inside, she deduced that he was just biding his time, waiting as long as it would take.

Beth looked out across the field once more and she could see that the flames from the burning pile of walkers had dissipated, replaced by dark tendrils of smoke floating into the evening sky. And before her now were two shadows, stretching side by side, toward the edge of the forest. _“Our shadows taller than our soul.”_ The once-famous line came to Beth then, and she wondered, vaguely, if anyone these days had time to remember the lyrics to classic rock songs. _Maybe that's all it is. Maybe I just miss the music._

 _There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,_  
_And my spirit is crying for leaving._  
_In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,_  
_And the voices of those who stand looking._

It was only as she paused to draw a breath that she realized she had been humming softly for some time

Daryl shifted then, moving to stand slightly behind her, and she felt his presence acutely, could smell the sweat and leather of him. Still gazing across that field, she watched wide-eyed as their long shadows merged into one and stretched out into the darkness of the evening woods. _Soon_ , the swaying branches whispered in the evening breeze. _Soon._

Beth shivered and pulled her thin sweater more tightly over her shoulders. She stepped back from the fence and bumped straight into the man where he stood just behind her.

"Hey, easy," he murmured. And for the briefest of moments, his hands were on her shoulders. _So warm,_ she thought. She didn't know why that surprised her.

He let go quickly and, moving away a pace or two, stood waiting for her once more.

Beth thought of her father, then, even now working late inside that dark office, even now worried about her. She thought of Maggie and Glenn, and all of their family back inside. She thought of Judith's giggling face and her little hands clenching happily, reaching out to her. Beth thought of tomorrow, and breathed a deep sigh. It wasn't surrender, and it wasn't resignation. It was simply the reassuring awareness that for all of them, there was still such a thing as _tomorrow_. “Okay,” she said suddenly.

"Okay, what?"

“I’ll go inside.”

He nodded. "Good." And as Beth glanced toward him, there was that upturned corner of his mouth, that half-smile again. He stepped away from her then, and moved to pick up his weapon from where it rested against the fence. As he turned toward the cellblocks, his dark blue eyes flashed briefly in the evening light. “Best hurry. That venison ain’t gonna last long, not with all them extra mouths now. And you look like you could do with a good, hot meal. C’mon.”

Beth smiled at him and stepped away from the fence. She turned from the dark wood and its shifting shadows to face the lowering sun. Quick-footed, she followed close behind Daryl’s striding form as he crossed the length of the yard. With her gaze fixed on the pale wings of his leather vest, she followed him all the way up the stairs, through the doors, and into the prison they called home.

~

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
>  Originally written for the July 2014 Bethyl Week Day 7 prompts: Hope and 'Something I Need.' While envisaged as a stand-alone one-shot, it can also be read as a foreshadowing or prequel to [Between the Fire and the Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1591847/chapters/3384230).
> 
> For the time being I consider this a completed work. But I may attempt a follow-up or another chapter someday, if I ever regain the inspiration.


End file.
